


Choosing to Forget

by katieh28



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieh28/pseuds/katieh28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian opens up to Mickey about a past boyfriend who hurt him. To say Mickey didn't like it was a vast understatement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choosing to Forget

"Hey," he said shyly, a cocky little smile on his perfect lips. "Miss me?" 

And that was all it took to send Mickey over the edge, pulling Ian through the doorway into the house and shoving him against the wall. He just stood there for a moment, feeling the blood rushing trough his veins and the pounding of his heart, before kissing Ian roughly, desperately on the mouth. 

When he pulled away, Ian was staring at him, his wide innocent eyes looking perplexed. 

"What? Am I not allowed to- do that or something?" Mickey said defensively. 

Ian laughed. "No, I mean...it's only been a week, Mick." 

"Well...fuck. It felt way longer." 

Ian nodded in agreement. "I missed you too. A lot." 

"Never said I missed ya," Mickey said, crossing his arms. 

"You didn't have to," Ian said, glancing down in the direction of Mickey's crotch. 

"Oh, shut up Gallagher. For Christ's sake." 

"You gonna make me?" Ian asked, challenging him. 

"Fuck yeah," Mickey whispered before shoving Ian against the wall again, kissing his neck as he grinded against him. 

"Bedroom?" Ian asked playfully, pulling away from Mickey for a moment. 

"We can't just fuck right here?" 

Ian just laughed and pushed Mickey off of him. Ian pulled Mickey by the arm and dragged him through the hallway, a devious smile gracing his face as he pictured all he could do to Mick, all he had wanted to do to him since the last time they fucked. He quickly kicked Mickey's bedroom door open and threw him down on the bed. 

"Shit. I've been waiting for this," Mickey whispered as Ian fell on the bed on top of him, moving up the bed to straddle his hips. He was moving his hips now, grinding into him, and God- he looked so beautiful like this. 

"Wanna fuck you," Mickey blurted out. 

Ian laughed as he tugged at Mickey's shirt, attempting to pull it off. "I know you do, asshole. You always do." 

"No," Mickey said, unsure of why he was even doing this. At first, it had just been a thought, something he let slip. But now that it had come out of his mouth he finally realized how much he wanted it. "I mean _I_   wanna fuck _you_. As in I do the fucking for once."

And just like that, he felt Ian freeze on top of him, felt the grip on his shoulders becoming tighter. He looked up to see Ian staring down at the floor, biting his lip. 

"Jesus, Ian. You can say no if you want. Nobody's forcing you to." 

Ian just nodded, a far off look in his eyes as he shifted his gaze to the window. 

"And, I mean, if this is your first time...I'm not gonna hurt you. You know I wouldn't." 

Ian's face suddenly contorted into a horrible grimace. 

Mickey's expression softened as looked into Ian's eyes, gently placing a hand on his cheek. 

"Okay, so it's not your first time. That's cool. It's not like I spend my nights fantasizing about popping your fucking cherry or something."

"Mick-"

"Listen. It's okay if you don't wanna do this, I don't care. You know I'm more than okay with what we usually do. And you know I don't give a fuck how many times you've taken it up the ass. I mean, seriously, I couldn't give less of a shit-" 

"Mickey, please. Please stop." 

Mickey looked up to meet Ian's eyes, and his heart broke at what he saw. Ian was practically shaking now, his eyes squeezed tight, face red and looking on the verge of tears. 

"You okay?" 

Ian nodded furiously. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay." 

Mickey's eyebrows knitted in concern as he watched Ian struggle to maintain composure. 

"Talk to me." 

"You fucking hate talking," Ian said, giving him a sad smile. 

"To most people, yeah. Most people suck. You don't." 

Ian sighed, shaking slightly as he went to press his head against Mickey's chest. Mickey let him, let him get so close that he could smell the faint scent of Ian's shampoo from his hair. 

"Remember I told you- I told you I've only ever been with that guy Roger Spikey and Kash before you?" 

"Yeah?" 

He felt Ian gulp, take in a deep breath. "There was somebody else." 

Mickey squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't wanna fucking hear this, not now. "Yeah?" 

Ian nodded against his chest. "Yeah. He was this older guy- surprise, surprise- and I only went out with him for about a month. Total fucking douchebag." 

"What happened?" Mickey asked, narrowing his eyes, eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

Ian gave a half-hearted laugh that he probably wanted to come off as casual. Mickey just thought it sounded sad, pathetic even. "It's probably stupid." 

"You're probably right," Mickey agreed. "Doesn't mean I still don't wanna hear it." 

"I don't know. He was just a jackass sometimes. Always had to have things his way, you know? He was always trying to control me, too. Had to know exactly where I was every second of every day."

"Sounds like a douche," Mickey said casually. 

"Yeah," Ian sighed. "I-uh- he was my first time." 

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, inhaling deeply. 

"Uh huh," Ian said. "It kinda sucked." 

Mickey gave a short, cautious laugh. "What, his shrimpy old man dick didn't live up to your standards?" he asked, silently praying that it was just that. 

Ian laughed, but it was bitter. "I was like 14. Not ready for anything, but he talked me into it. It wasn't like he did anything horrible- he just- he was too much too fast. I asked him to slow down but he wouldn't. Fucking sucked." 

Mickey closed his eyes, grimacing, trying to fight the horrible images out of his head. "He hurt you." 

"It wasn't that bad. Just wished he would've slowed the fuck down." 

"What's his name?" 

"Mickey-"

"What's his fucking name?" 

Suddenly, Mickey jumped out of bed and stalked over to the corner of the room. Ian just stared, unable to speak as he watched Mickey pull out a metal baseball bat, waving it around menacingly, gripping it tightly in his hands. 

"Mickey, no-" 

"Just shut up, okay? I want to do this." 

"You don't even know where he is." 

"Tell me his fucking name and I'll hunt him down, I don't care how long it takes. This motherfucker is going down." 

"I'm not telling you his name, Mick. I wasn't a fan of the guy, sure, but that doesn't mean I want him fucking murdered."

"He _hurt_ you," Mickey said, looking desperately at Ian, his eyes silently begging Ian to  _just let him do this._ He  _needed_ to. 

"I'm fine" Ian said. "Besides, I already got my revenge. Without your help, thank you very much." 

Only then did Mickey loosen the grip on his baseball bat. "Good. I hope you did a real number on that dirtbag." 

"Didn't have to," Ian said. 

"What do you mean you didn't have to?" 

"There are other ways to get back at people besides beating them half to death, Mick." 

"Okay, so what did you do?"

Ian sighed, sitting up, and then patted a spot on the bed, inviting Mickey to sit next to him. "Story time, asshole." 

Mickey rolled his eyes, but he was grinning as he took his seat next to Ian. 

Ian took a deep breath then, running a hand through bright red hair. "So after that...incident- I dumped him. I just- I couldn't even look at him the same anymore. I had to break up with him." Ian sighed, eyes focused on the ground. Mickey didn't miss the way his eyes watered as he struggled to speak the next part of his story. "After I told him we were through- he flipped the fuck out. He started screaming at me, throwing shit at me, acting like a total basket case." 

"Fucking dickhead-"

"-That wasn't even the part that got me. I didn't give a shit about all that," Ian said quietly. "...Right when he was leaving, he went off on this- I don't even know what it was. He just kept telling me how much better he was then me, how I'd never find anyone half as good as him, how I'd never find any decent guy to love me at all. All that shit." 

Mickey stayed silent, but his grip on the baseball bat tightened. 

"That shit fucking bothered me, Mick. For a while...I thought he was right," Ian said. 

Mickey just scowled the ugliest scowl Ian had ever seen, and God, the sadness in his eyes. It was almost enough to get Ian to shed a tear of his own. 

He tried desperately to control his emotions, to push it all down, but before he knew it Ian was letting a tear fall silently down his cheek. 

Slowly, he turned to Mickey, giving him a watery smile. Ian thought it probably looked goofy, but to Mickey, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. 

"Sorry. You probably think I'm being a pussy," Ian said, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "I just- I never thought I'd be able to prove him wrong. But now- now I have you. So, uh...he was wrong. Really fucking wrong. " 

 Mickey just stared at him for a moment, his heart doing some kind of crazy shit, like he was having a fucking heart attack just sitting there on the bed. 

He was quiet for a moment, before a small, cocky grin emerged on his lips. "You think I'm decent?" 

Ian just grinned back at him warmly, eyes still teary as he threw his arm around Mickey's shoulder. "You're decent." 

And there it was. Mickey's heart was doing that thing again, and he didn't fucking like it.

"I still think he deserves a good solid beat-down." 

"Alright, asshole," Ian said. "If it means that much to you-" 

"-You're seriously cool if I go kick his ass?" 

"...You know what?" Ian said. "I have a better idea." 

Ian got up off the bed and made his way over to Mickey's nightstand. He opened the drawer, pulled something out, and then turned around to face Mickey. Mickey's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he spotted his own knife in the redhead's hand. 

"Damn, Gallagher," Mickey said, unable to hide his shock. "You're one crazy bastard. It's kinda hot, but-" 

"We're not gonna stab him, Mick." 

"Then what the fuck are you waving around my knife for?" 

"I still know where he lives," Ian said, a devious smile creeping up on his face. "...Never said I was against slashing his tires." 

"Are you against a little window smashing to go along with it?" Mickey asked, picking up the baseball bat yet again. 

"Might as well put it to good use," Ian said with a shrug. "It would be stupid not to, you know, while we're already there and all. Right?" 

Mickey just smiled, looking into Ian's clear, bright, incredible eyes. 

"I like the way you think, Gallagher. Maybe you aren't as dumb as you look." 

And with that, Ian was chasing Mickey out of the house, and soon they were running full speed down the street. Both with weapons in their hands, both laughing maniacally like lunatics. Happy. 

_Happy._


End file.
